Jean Sharlow
English War Bride
Mauretania
February of 1946
THE HOMECOMING
JEAN SHARLOW WAS BORN IN SURREY, ENGLAND. IN THE EARLY
1930S, HER FAMILY MOVED TO WEST WICKLOW, KENT, WHERE SHE
MET AND FELL IN LOVE WITH A CANADIAN SERVICEMAN. NOW SHE
WASA BOUND FOR A STRANGE LAND, HALF A WORLD FROM HOME
Excerpted from Blackouts to Bright Lights: Canadian War Bride Stories,
edited by Barbara Ladouceur and Phyllis Spence and reprinted at Mrs.
Sharlow's request.
It was May, 1941, in Croydon,
England. "There’s a good show
playing at the Rex at Hayes" I said.
"O.K., let’s go then" said Bill. "We can
most likely get home before the air
raid starts." Bill was my Canadian
soldier fiancé, and we were planning
to be married in July.
The movie was enjoyable and we left
the movie house just as dusk was
falling. England at this time was on
double daylight savings time, to
enable workers to get home before the
nightly air raids started. We were
standing at the bus stop when the
air-raid sirens started to wail.
Although it was an every day
occurrence, sometimes going off a
dozen times a day, a shiver of fear
always ran down my spine with the rise and fall of the siren’s wail.
What should we do? Our choices were to wait and see if the bus came
(sometimes they stopped running during air raids) or to take a train.
This, too, was risky, since railways were good targets for the bombers.
Trains, too, were inclined to pull over when the bombing got heavy,
which we found out later would have been fatal.
The distance to home was about
3 miles if we took the shortcut, a
footpath alongside the railway
tracks. After walking briskly for
about a half mile, we heard the
unmistakable throb of a German
bomber. Searchlights swept the
sky and our heavy antiaircraft
guns got into action.
It did not take us long to realize
this was no ordinary air raid.
London seemed to be the target
and judging from the blood-red
sky over London, they were
getting it. Biggin Hill, an Air
Force base was only a few miles
away from us, and bombers that
were turned back by the heavy
gunfire jettisoned their bombs all
around us.
Things got very hot. Bombs were
falling all around and the
screaming whine they made as
they fell to earth will ring forever
in my ears. Bill said, "We just
can’t go on, we must seek a
shelter." Shrapnel from our guns
was raining down in white,
ragged lumps. This time, we had
two choices. The foot pass we
were on had a high fence on
either side. To the right were the
railway tracks; they were
electrified, so this was out of the
question. To our left was a
school where I had been a
student two years before.
We clambered over the school
fence and started searching in
the total blackout for the air raid
shelter we knew to be in every
schoolyard. At last we found it
and were horrified to find that the door had been padlocked. As we stood
there, trying to get in, a bomb whistled down, dangerously close. We
threw ourselves on the ground, it had hit the railway tracks, and debris
showered down all over us. Bill started throwing himself at the door and
finally it gave way. Once inside, we edged cautiously into the dead-black
underground tunnel, found a bench and sat down. We were afraid to go
too deep into the tunnels, as no one knew we were there, and if the
entr4ance became covered we would never be found.
The relentless bombing went on for what seemed like hours and hours.
Suddenly there was a lull and we sensed that something had happened.
We found our way out of the shelter. The moon had come up and our
wonderful Spitfires had given the German bombers chase. Bill said "Let’s
make a run for it". I agreed.
Never before or since have I moved so quickly. We covered that last 2 ½
miles in record time. As we ran through the familiar streets, we were
shocked to see so many of the houses in ruins. Not a hundred yards
from our house was a small crater, blocking our way. We edged around
the rim. Imagining my family would be out of their minds with worry
about me, we ran straight down the garden pass to the air raid shelter at
the foot of the garden and burst in. "Were you worried about us?" I
asked my mum? "Oh no," she replied. "I knew you would be all right you were with Bill".
Bill and I were married at St. John’s Church in West Wickham, Kent, on
July 19, 1941. We managed to have a white wedding in spite of the
rationing. My mother had set aside some white and blue taffeta, enough
to make a bride’s gown and two bridesmaids’ dresses. Bill’s brother,
Leslie, who was in the Calgary Highlanders, was his best man and my
sister Betty and friend, Molly were my bridesmaids. Owing to the
rationing, our wedding cake had no icing, only a decorated cardboard
cover. I think most of Bill’s regiment attended - the 92nd Battery of the
3rd Field Regiment Royal Canadian Artillery. They sent a gun carriage to
take us to the reception. A guard of honour and the military band were
outside the church.
The bombings continued in our district and in 1942 I returned to my
mother and father’s home to help my mother look after my baby nephew,
whose mother was hospitalized after being injured in a bombing. I saw
Bill on his leaves, as often as he could get away.
In the spring of 1943, the St. Essylt, on which Bill was traveling to the
invasion of Sicily, was torpedoed. It was in a convoy of 5 ships. 3 of
which were sunk that night. Bill was rescued from the water and taken
to Algiers. He joined his regiment later but it was 5 months before I
learned what had happened. Those were bleak and unhappy days of
waiting for news. I was expecting my first child, Michael. When he was
born on December 9, 1943, my mother sent a telegram through Cairo to
tell Bill he had a son.
In the spring of 1944, the buzz bombing started. It was terrible. Our
district was so badly hit that we were advised to leave, if possible. I went
with my baby, my mother, my sister, who was still in a body cast, and
her son to Doncaster, in Yorkshire, where my mother had a cousin who
would take the five of us in. Oh, what peace! We returned some months
later to wait out the end of the war.
When the war ended on May 8th, 1945, the relief was enormous. Our
street had a party for all the children, and we all took something to eat
that we had saved. I am sure it was the first party for most of the
children. Bill returned from Holland around May 12, and in five days he
was on his way back to Canada.
It was the following February before I started my journey for Canada.
When I glanced down at our little boy, dozing beside me on the train
seat, I thought, Poor little chap, uprooted from the only home he has ever
known and now going to a daddy he has only met once, and another set
of grandparents. How will we settle in this huge, strange land?
It seemed ages ago that Michael and I had said a very sad and tearful
goodbye to my family, friends and neighbours, who had gathered to wave
us off to Canada. We spent our first night in a large house in London,
where we met some of the 1,200 women and children who would be
traveling on the Mauretania to join their husbands and fathers in
Canada.
Early the next day, we were on our way by train to Liverpool. It was
getting dark by the time we reached the dockside. I will always
remember looking up at this huge ship, which seemed to have hundreds
of lighted portholes. We trudged up the gangplank, and after many line
ups and much paper work, we were assigned to a cabin. To my surprise,
ten of us were sharing a cabin - six women and four children. We soon
settled into a routine, helping each other with the children. For mothers
with babies, it was very difficult; washing had to be done in seawater in
hand basins. After 5 years of rationing though, we enjoyed the meals
very much. The children saw and ate a banana for the first time.
It was February and cold and the sea was very rough. Seasickness took
its toll. I found that remaining on deck as much as I could helped
overcome the feelings of sickness. I would wrap a blanket around
Michael and myself and found a sheltered spot to sit, full of thoughts of
our future life. How my life had changed by my going to a dance,
meeting and falling in love with someone from the other end of the world
and now here we were, heading for Vancouver!
Eight days later, we arrived at Halifax. An efficient system had been
developed to get us through customs and onto the bride train, taking us
to our various destinations. Mine seemed far away. My husband, now
discharged from the army, was working in Vancouver. We had decided
that Michael and I would stop for a few days in Alberta to meet my inlaws, who were anxious to meet their daughter-in-law and their first
grandchild.
The days on the train were similar to those on the boat, except that now
there was a strong feeling of excitement as we all drew nearer to our
destinations. The porter in charge of our coach kept us all laughing with
his tall tales of life in Canada. There was deep snow all the way.
The coach was beginning to feel quite lonely, since at every stop, women
and children disembarked into the waiting arms of their new families. It
was a great temptation to go right to Vancouver, where Bill awaited us in
a rented basement suite. As we drew close, my anxiety grew and grew.
Would they like me? Would we recognize each other? How I wished Bill
were with me!
The porter told me the next stop was mine. I gathered my possessions,
and stepped into the snowy platform. I could see a small, plump lady
racing toward me. As she drew near, I said, "Hallo, Mother".
A smile broke over her face. "Oh, Jean" she said, "I thought you would
never get here!" A huge man in a checked mackinaw strode up and
swept his first grandchild into his arms, and suddenly, we were
surrounded by family and friends. The warmth of the greeting assured
me that it was going to be all right.
Bill was on the phone as soon as we stepped into the house. "You can
stay four or five days", he said "then come to Vancouver". But it didn’t
quite work that way. After five days of parties, shopping and bridal
showers, first Michael and then I came down with the mumps. Bill said,
"Enough is enough" and managed to obtain a leave of absence from his
job, to come and get us.
We settled in Vancouver, and later bought a house. We had a second
son, Stephen, and lived in our home for thirty nine years before moving
to Victoria, where we are very happy.